Numb
by JilyEvotter19
Summary: Two men. Two personalities. Two destinies. Two paths. Yet experiencing the same feeling of numbness on October 31, 1981.
1. Enemy And Lover

The chilly October night was alive with the incessant chirping of crickets and the clamour produced by millions of other insects as Severus Snape stumbled across the little lane that bordered the front of the Potter cottage. A casual observer would have thought him to be drunk, but Severus wasn't so. At least, he wasn't drunk with liquor. He was intoxicated by a mixture of grief, love and regret.

As it was, there were no casual observers that day. People were just recovering from hearing the shocking news of the barbaric murder of two of the country's finest, bravest, brightest people: James and Lily Potter. What shocked people most was that their son Harry, a mere one-year-old, had survived and brought about the supposed end of the evil Dark Lord.

Severus's mind was not occupied by thoughts of this nature, however. He was too busy trying not to reel with the surrealism of it all.

Before he had time to register the shock, he had arrived and found himself standing in the half caved-in doorway of the cottage. Without volition, he kicked aside a few fallen bricks, succeeding in raising a cloud of dust. Just as he was wondering how he would find Lily's body amid all this mess and rubble, he spotted a familiar head. Messy raven hair. James Potter.

Severus loathed him in life and he still loathed him in death. Potter's death had not softened Severus's feelings towards him. As he passed the corpse of the man, he looked with hatred at his lifeless face.

Severus did not see the person who had worried and fretted over his wife's pregnancy. He did not see the person who had spent hours after midnight trying to calm his wailing son. He did not see the person who would have gladly died to save his wife and son, who had _actually_ sacrificed himself for those he loved. He saw only what he wanted to see - a bully, an arrogant show-off. Nothing more. A shallow boy, a worthless man.

It was still a bit unsettling to see Potter dead, so Severus moved on. He climbed the short staircase; it felt like five thousand steps. Looking around, he spotted red hair. Red hair that shone bright in life, but was dull in death. As he forced his jelly-like feet to move towards the love of his life, a sudden lump lodged itself in his throat. His feet froze; he couldn't move them, no matter how much he tried. He struggled to subdue the wave of numbness that swept up inside of him.

Lily.

_Forgive me,_ he silently pleaded. To whom, he did not know. For Lily was dead - any hope of her forgiving him had gone. Gone with her.

And then suddenly the frigid feeling vanished. He no longer felt immobilised by disbelief and pain. And then Severus Snape fell down on his knees, and the lump in his throat gave way to violent lamenting. Weeping. Holding Lily's dead body in his arms and regretting everything he had done since the past six years.

_Please._

He ignored the infant bawling his lungs out behind him in the cot. The baby obviously knew that his parents were never going to kiss him, hug him, hold him again. Never again would Lily whisper soothing words into her son's ear, never again would she stroke his hair lovingly.

_I didn't mean to do what I did, Lily._

It seemed like hours as he sat there, rocking back and forth and letting the tears fall. His hard outer wall had given way, collapsed, just like a part of him had when he first heard the news of Lily's death an hour ago. He cared nothing for Potter and not much for the baby, either. But Lily ... his heart wrenched for her. To see her smiling again, her gleaming red hair tossing and her beautiful green eyes sparkling with joy. But most of all, Severus ached to see her _alive_.

He gazed at her face now, into those unseeing eyes, and it was as if physical streaks of pain were shooting through him. Severus caressed her pale face, touching those freckles dotted lightly across her face - the freckles that she had detested. Another wave of agony, stronger and more unbearable this time, rushed through him as a memory rippled across the surface of his mind ...

_They were young, both of them, basking in the sunlight near the lake ... The girl was laughing at herself as she poked and prodded her face, complaining about the freckles that speckled it. The boy was chuckling, but secretly thought about how stunningly pretty she looked, even with those freckles ..._

But that time was over now. Had been over since what seemed like eons. And Severus was forced to face the brutal reality, the harsh truth - that the girl he loved was no longer living. But worse - she had departed without accepting his apology.

And he hated himself for that.

_Please ... forgive me._


	2. Brother

His heart pounded inside his rib-cage. His mouth was opening and forming one word, over and over again, without his volition.

"No ... no ... no ..."

It was not true. They were not dead. They _couldn't_ be dead.

He ran across the winding streets and passed the cosily nestled cottages without a second glance. The cottage he was aiming for was at the far end of the street. As Sirius arrived at a stop before the half-eradicated house, he gaped.

"_No_ ..."

So it was true.

Prongs and Lily were dead.

"NO!"

His shout of disbelief reverberated around and without a second thought, Sirius staggered into the house. Death and destruction were painted over every scene of rubble and mess. Doors had fallen onto the ground. Glass lay smashed everywhere. He thought he could see the remains of Lily's favourite painting lying on the ground.

His heart rammed against his body even faster. A nauseous feeling overcame him. He knew what he was about to see, and he dreaded it.

And there he was.

Prongs, lying motionless on the ground, his face turned towards the heavens. Sirius knelt by him, his body shaking violently with sobs he didn't bother to control, for what good would it do? There was no Prongs now to laugh at him and call him a baby for crying.

"Prongs ... Prongs, mate ... why?"

And as he bent over the lifeless body of his brother in all but blood, an outpouring of memories flooding through his mind - and oh, it was painful, so painful -

"N-No," he managed to choke out shakily. "No, stop - don't want - to see -"

He wanted to stop the reminiscences from flowing everywhere in that jumbled-up manner - they were killing him -

"_Why? _Why did you - why did you leave me? Prongs - Prongs ..."

And then their pranks flashed through his mind's eye, shattering him with their brightness, their colourfulness, the _life_ within them. And somehow - he didn't know how, or why, or _anything_, but he was laughing through the oceans of tears he was shedding as the happy memories of their time at Hogwarts struck him, and he would have given anything to forget the fresh tragedy that loomed before him like some three-headed monster and to laugh everything away, but he still kept weeping and weeping everything out, and yet he was miserably convulsing with mirth through it all, and -

A wail broke the whirlwind of disorienting ambivalence within him.

Sirius lifted his head and, so like the dog he became at times, his ears pricked up. He followed the familiar wailing with his head and realised that _not all of them were dead_. The voice that was expressing its loneliness belonged to a body that had not gone into the void.

There was still hope.

Stumbling to his feet and feeling fresh slashes of torment burn in his veins, he followed the wailing which had now increased in volume and found himself overlooking his godson's nursery.

And there she was.

Sprawled on the ground with her beautiful face towards the door. Red hair lying lifeless on her shoulders. Emerald eyes unseeing, glassy, blank. No expression on her face except that of an unknown determination and some great, great sadness.

A hollow numbness rose up within him. It lodged itself in his throat and he couldn't swallow it away. It blurred his vision, attenuated his senses. He couldn't think. One death sent him battling unleashed contrasting emotions. The second death rendered him frozen. Just empty.

Unfeeling.

The spurt of grief didn't come immediately as it had when he first saw Prongs's body. No, it bade its time, kept him waiting and then shot him down and rolled over him like he was made of paper.

And before he knew it he was on his knees once again, leaning over Lily's body, breaking down in a howling lament. And the same torturous uproar of remembrances flattened him until he was wishing for death himself, to join his brother and sister in death, to just _leave this agony_.

And then it was as if a shroud had been lifted from his previously blocked ears as Harry's cries reached him once more. Tearing his attention away from Lily, he went over to the infant.

"Harry."

The little boy looked up at Sirius, his attention diverted from the sight of his unresponsive mummy. Sirius looked into his godson's eyes and winced. He was staring into replicas of Lily's eyes and an exact copy of Prongs's face.

_Too painful ..._

"Harry, mate, c'mere." Sirius picked Harry up, whose cries had been subdued when he noticed his godfather standing at the edge of his crib. Harry's snug little body instantly warmed Sirius's own, numb as he was with shock and cold with seeing Lily and Prongs dead.

_Dead ..._

Harry wound his finger around Sirius's and rested his head against his godfather's chest. "Siwius," he simply said.

"Don't worry, mate." Sirius ruffled Harry's hair, tears once again springing from his eyes. "I'm here for you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So painful writing this chapter, especially since I was listening to "Harry Potter: The War" (based on the song _This Is War_ by 30 Seconds To Mars) _and_ engrossing myself in Sirius's agony over James and Lily's deaths at the same time.


End file.
